Page 119 of Cashmere Cruelty

This time, it’s the right kind of shiver.

Despite the convenience of pizza boxes, the mess at the stove must be addressed eventually. For obvious reasons—namely a tall, lanky redheaded teenager sitting on our couch—I can’t claim mypunishmentjust yet, no matter how much I’d like to.

That’s how we end up at the sink—April washing, me drying. It’s… unsettlingly domestic.

Feeling the tension between us, she clears her throat. “About Charlie…”

“You don’t need to explain,” I interrupt, surprising myself in the process. When have I ever said those words to anyone? “He’s your brother.”

April bites her lip. “He had a fight with our mom,” she says quietly. “Because of me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her. April’s face is a slideshow of conflicted expressions—guilt, compassion, hesitation, each giving way to the next.

You broke a rule, I should be saying.You brought a stranger into my home and you didn’t tell me. I don’t give a fuckwhyyou did it.

Instead, I say, “I’m glad.”

April frowns at me. “What?”

“He took your side,” I elaborate. “He stood up for you. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It is for me,” she replies softly. “I never meant to be a burden. To him, or…”

I clutch the plate in my hands. A little tighter, and it will crack straight down the middle. “If people didn’t want to be ‘burdened,’” I growl, “they shouldn’t have kids.”

April blinks up at me. Her hazel eyes are shiny, two beacons of pure light. Not for the first time, I find myself wondering how she does it—clinging to hope like that.

After everything she’s been through, she should want the world to burn.

“Hey, Matvey…”

“Yes,” I say immediately. “The answer is yes.”

April’s head tilts. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“You were going to ask if he can stay the night.” April’s not the only one who’s shocked—tonight, I keep shocking myself as well.Where’d this version of me come from?“The answer’s yes,” I repeat. “He can stay as long as he needs.”

She blinks slowly as she processes. “You’re… sure?” she asks uncertainly. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” I say—and I mean it. “He’s a good kid. Very polite.”

I don’t doubt for a second that that’s April’s doing—everythinggood about Charlie seems to be. Seeing them stand side by side, you’d never guess they were siblings except for their eyes. Charlie’s tall, lanky, a head full of carrot-red hair. That spray of freckles on their cheeks could be chalked up to coincidence.

It’s when you hear them talk that the resemblance becomes uncanny.

So what?thepakhanin me growls.Who cares that they’re alike? Who cares if he reminds you of April?

Why should anyone get special treatment because of that?

I feel torn in half. Like I’m stuck in the middle of a fight between two sides of me, one of which I didn’t even know existed.

But right now, I don’t want to deal with it.

So I turn back to our conversation. “Certainly more polite than his sister,” I add in a teasing tone. “I bet he’s never cursed out a customer before.”

“Hey!” April elbows me with a smile. “Neither have I.”

“But you’ve thought it.”

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